Legacy of the Mist Clans Box Set (85 page)

“Aidan!” Kenna screamed.

Aidan battled to suck air into his lungs and clear his darkening vision. Instinctively, he rolled, knowing the attack was coming, but he had no idea from which direction.

He heard the telling clink of a blade striking the ground. Somehow he managed to roll to his feet, even though the pain threatened to topple him. He clutched at his burning side with his free hand, his right still gripping his sword. He didn’t look down at his wound—he didn’t dare.

Kenna had once again vanished into the trees, thank the Good Lord.

But he couldn’t move like this, he couldn’t catch his breath. The world spun around him, and he feared he would topple over at any second. But he couldn’t give up the fight. Hurstal would kill Kenna if he fell.

Hurstal turned on him, enraged. He attacked in fury. Aidan blocked the blows, constantly retreating, constantly staggering from their force. His vision darkened even more. He knew he was leaking blood like water from a rotted bucket.

He heard another thud and fought to clear his vision. The second knight lay dead in the clearing. Sweet Jesu, Kenna was not giving up. Neither would he. Only Hurstal remained, and he was determined to end Aidan’s life. Pure hatred shot through Aidan, strengthening him. This man had murdered Raven and had nearly destroyed his precious sparrow. If it was his last act on this earth, Aidan vowed the bastard would pay.

HHH

Terror nearly choked Kenna’s throat. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the terrible wound on Aidan’s side. Dark blood streamed through his fingers and down his leg. Sweet Jesu, nay, the bastard would kill him. She had to pull her wits together; she had to do something, she couldn’t just stand back and watch the whoreson slay the man she loved.

Enough!
her heart screamed.
Aidan needs yer help, not yer tears.

Kenna gulped down her sobs and blinked the tears from her eyes. Her fists tightened on her biodags. Their plan had worked; they had made a brilliant team, and it was their teamwork that would win the day. She had to act before Aidan grew too weak.

She watched the pace of the fight, the ring of steel sounding as a meter in the marrow of her bones, and her heartbeat joined the timing. Hurstal dictated the fight, Aidan only able to block and sometimes repost, but he wasn’t strong enough to turn the pace of the fight to his own.

She waited, knowing she had to be patient, and praying Aidan could hold out just a little longer. Hurstal shifted his balance subtly, and Kenna knew this was the only chance she would get. She sprinted forward, charging his blind spot.

For Raven!
her thoughts screamed as Hurstal lifted his sword arm. Kenna thrust her daggers forward.

Suddenly, Hurstal spun and arced his sword around as he faced her. His weapon blocked her daggers and knocked one from her hand. She fought to slide to a stop, her feet slipping out from under her. She fell on her back, staring in horror as he loomed over her. How had he—?

Aidan roared, and a sword tip exploded through Hurstal’s chest. He looked down at himself in shock, blood streaming from his mouth.

Kenna scrambled backward, out of reach. Only then did she realize that by turning to face her, he had exposed his back to Aidan. Once again, their teamwork had become their true strength.

“That be for Raven,” Aidan snarled as he wrenched his blade from the man’s chest. For an instant, he moved as if he had never been wounded and stepped before Hurstal. “And for my lassie . . . ” he growled as he again lifted his sword. “Hell awaits ye.” The blade sparkled in the fading light as it shot outward and severed Hurstal’s head from his body.

The head rolled a good three feet as the body, spouting blood, toppled over.

Aidan stared at the corpse, his chest heaving, and he slowly lowered his sword.

A soft groan sounded and Stewart’s man lifted his head, shaking it. He looked around and blinked in confusion at the dead bodies littering the clearing.

Kenna quickly fisted her biodags and leapt to her feet, but Aidan grabbed her arm, stopping her. He glared at Stewart’s man and took one threatening step toward him.

The man’s face lost all color. He immediately tried to scramble to his feet, tripped, and fell in a heap in the dead leaves. He scrambled again, grabbing his sword from the ground and sprinting from the clearing.

Aidan took another step, but his knees buckled and he dropped. In an instant, Kenna was before him, stopping his fall.

“Aidan, oh God, Aidan.” She cupped his face in her hands as she knelt before him.

“My beautiful sparrow,” he murmured, his lips lifting in a hint of a smile. He dropped his sword and wrapped his free arm around her, kissing her deeply.

Kenna returned his kiss without fear or reservation. “I love ye,” she whispered against his lips.

Aidan pulled away, squeezing his eyes closed. To her shock, she saw a single tear trickle down his cheek. “Nay, my sparrow, dinna say the words, they will only make it hurt more.”

She stared at him in confusion.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. A beautiful pale blue, they gazed at her with untold heartache. With shaking, bloody fingers, he reached up and caressed her cheek. “I fought so hard no’ tae love ye,” he whispered. “But I do. I vow, Kenna, the day I found ye in the cave and ye attacked Hurstal was the day I fell in love with ye. I wanted so much tae make ye my wife. I dinna doubt ye’d be the most beautiful bride on this blessed island . . . ” He choked and lurched forward.

“Nay,” she barked, catching him and forcing her tears down. Sheer terror shot through her. “What do ye mean ‘wanted tae’?”

He looked down at the wound in his side, partially pulling away his hand, staring at the blood covering it. Slowly, he looked at her again, his pale blue eyes grief stricken, and he shook his head.

Her terror grew worse and tears streamed down her face. “Oh nay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Aidan, ye canna give up. Ye willna die.”

“Kenna—”

“We’re going tae get married, Aidan. Now, come on! We arena out of this yet.”

“Leave me, Kenna, ride tae—”

“Cease!” she snapped, quickly hauling his arm over her shoulders. “I willna hear another word.”

“Kenna—”

“Cease!”

He snapped his jaw shut, his lips lifting again. “If ye insist.”

“I do.”

He returned his sword and she helped him to his feet. He leaned heavily against her, but they managed to make their way back to where they had hidden their horses. Kenna had him sit, his back against a tree.

“In my saddle pack,” Aidan said, still fighting to catch his breath, “a flask and my extra tunic. Fetch them for me, please.”

“Aye,” she said and found the items.

“Rip my tunic into strips and use those tae bind the wound.” He paused and took a long drink from his flask then handed it to her.

She eyed it a moment then took a long pull from it as well. “Thank ye.”

Aidan barked a laugh then recoiled in pain. Although his face was terribly pale, his eyes sparkled with mirth. “My sister-by-law has determined that whiskey cleans wounds better than water.”

Kenna eyed his ragged wound. “What do I do?”

“Just pour the whiskey over the wound.”

“All right,” she said dubiously. It sounded like a bit of witchery, but who was she to question?

She ripped his extra tunic into strips. She then tore open the tunic he wore so she could better examine his wound. It still bled copiously.

“That needs tae be stitched closed.”

“We canna do it here. We delayed the other knights-errant from entering the fray, but Stewart’s man will no doubt rally them.”

“He just ran with his tail between his legs,” she muttered.

“Aye, but he’ll find his courage again with men at his back.” He eyed the flask she held. “Soak the strips in it too.”

She nodded, did so, then knelt beside him. “Ready?”

“Aye,” he said through clenched teeth.

She poured the whiskey over the wound.

Aidan snarled a curse and recoiled, his face turning dreadfully gray. “Bloody hell,” he growled. “Make sure ye douse it completely. I dinna want tae suffer this twice.”

Kenna swallowed hard. She didn’t want to hurt him, but there seemed to be no choice. She cleaned the wound as best she could, closed the flask, and had him lean against her so she could wrap the strips around his waist.

“All right,” she said and rose. She held her hands out to him. “Let’s get you on your horse.”

“Kenna, I dinna think—”

“Then stop thinking,” she snapped. Somehow, she managed to get him to his feet and up on his horse. His face was pallid, and she debated if she should tie him to the saddle. But voices reached them through the trees. Stewart’s man had rallied the remaining knights faster than she imagined possible.

Kenna grabbed her horse and pulled herself into the saddle. “Their numbers have been cut in half. When they find Hurstal, will they give up the chase?”

“I dinna ken,” Aidan said. “It may simply mean less people to split the gold. Do ye have any idea how many horses are sound?”

“Ten, by my last count.”

“Then we ride hard for home and pray they dinna follow.” He spun his horse and galloped through the trees with Kenna right behind him.

HHH

The sun was rising when they crested a small hill and Aidan pulled his horse to a stop. In the distance, a tiny black speck beckoned to him. “Castle MacGrigor,” he said. But it was so very far away. Luckily, it had taken time for the remaining knights to gather their mounts and pick up the trail again; their pursuers were still a full day behind them.

Aidan looked down at the bloody bandages on his side. Sorrow filled him. The world spun and he knew he could go no further. By this time tomorrow, he would be dead. His only goal was that Kenna safely reach Castle MacGrigor, and Aidan had taken her as far as he could. His journey would end here. But he took comfort in the knowledge that Ronan would keep Kenna safe. She and Gordy would see to it that Aidan’s network of birds would continue. At least he would leave behind a good legacy, even if it was not a child.

“Aidan?” Kenna called softly, reaching for him.

He turned his head to look at her, but realized that was a mistake as darkness crowded his vision. He felt himself slide then fall.

“Aidan!” she screamed, but her voice seemed so far away. Strange, he never felt himself hit the ground.

She was beside him, her fingers softly caressing his face, helping pull him from the blackness.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, his voice sounding strange even to himself.

“Nay, Aidan, we just need tae get ye back on yer horse.”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and took her hand, pulling it to his lips. “I havena the strength.”

“Cease!”

His lips lifted at her fire. She was the strongest, most beautiful woman he had ever met, and she was his. She loved him and he loved her. Although things were to end, at least he had known what it meant to love and be loved.

“Ride, Kenna,” he whispered. “Don’t let my death be in vain.”

“I willna leave ye!”

“Ye must.” His hand tightened on hers. This time he would brook no argument. “I would have ye safe, my little sparrow.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, twisting his heart into vicious knots. He hated seeing her cry. “I canna leave ye, Aidan, I love ye.”

“And I love ye, which is why you must ride. Please, Kenna . . . ”

She tore her gaze from his and looked around frantically. “At least let me get ye into the trees. Perhaps the knights will be so intent on chasing me they willna find ye.”

Aidan closed his eyes but found himself nodding. If it would make her feel better, he would do it. The world continued to spin around him as she helped him to his feet, but he realized, with regret, he was moving beyond pain. Perhaps he had less time than he thought.

She settled him with his back against a tree, making certain his sword was next to him. Aidan stared at it. He wouldn’t even be able to lift it let alone stand if the knights found him.

“Aidan,” she said tightly. “Ye hold on.”

He frowned at her in confusion.

“I’m going tae go fetch yer brother.”

“Kenna—”

“Ye said yer sister-by-law be a healer. She can work miracles. I’m going tae put that tae the test.”

He blinked at her. “Kenna—”

“Aidan,” she said sharply, cupping his face in her hands. “If ye expect me tae leave ye like this, the only way I will go is for ye tae vow that ye willna give up the fight. Please!”

He saw the desperation and fear in her eyes. How could he deny her? Slowly, he nodded.

She leaned forward and kissed him. He closed his eyes and savored the taste of her, the soft feel of her lips against his. He wished he could make love to her one last time.

Too quickly, she pulled away.

He studied her bonny face, her rich emerald eyes glistening with tears. He memorized each and every detail, hoping the memory would be his comfort in the afterlife. He traced his fingers over the soft silk of her cheek. “My heart will always be with ye.”

“Hold on, Aidan, please.”

“Fly, my little sparrow,” he whispered and squeezed his eyes closed. The world continued to whirl, but he fought to maintain his wits until he heard her horse gallop away. His iron grip on his willpower vanished with the fading sound of the animal’s hoofbeats, and he spun away into blackness.

T
ears streamed down Kenna’s face as she exhorted her horse to greater speed. Beside her, Aidan’s mount galloped, its empty saddle covered in blood mocking her with each stride. She clutched its reins in her hand. She had thought about leaving the horse for him, in case by some miracle he found his strength again, but she knew he wouldn’t and feared if the animal heard the knights’ horses approaching, it would whinny and give away Aidan’s hiding spot.

How could she do this? How could she leave him to die alone?

Fly, my little sparrow.

She spurred her mount forward.

Ever so slowly, Castle MacGrigor grew larger in the distance. Her mount faltered, nearly stumbling, but she pushed him even harder. She knew she was close to killing the beast, but she had no choice. “Come on!” she barked, her sobs nearly choking her throat. “Come on!”

Her horse’s ears pricked and he ran harder. Perhaps he sensed home? She could only pray.

Slowly, the white ribbon of road unfolded before her as she crossed miles of grass and heather just beginning to bloom. The castle gradually grew larger but despair threatened to suffocate her. It was still too far away; it would take her too long to get there.

Nay! She had to ride. She wouldn’t let Aidan die.

What would happen when she reached the castle?

Kenna swallowed hard, a new fear rising within her. She had heard the tales of the Demon Laird. What awaited her at the keep? But Aidan had only good things to say about his brother, and he was a good man. Surely they were cut from the same cloth.

What if the MacGrigor didn’t believe her? How could she convince him that his brother lay dying beside the trail? What if he refused to help?

She sat up, slowing her mount, and looked over her shoulder. She pulled her horse to a stop. The MacGrigor wouldn’t believe her. What if he thought she was the one responsible? He would kill her.

For a moment, she warred with herself. She couldn’t leave Aidan to die alone. She loved him too much.

Worthless! Useless!

Her gaze returned to the keep, and she shook her head to clear it. That was the voice of her father, not hers.

Her gaze landed again on Aidan’s mount and the bloody saddle. If her words would not convince the MacGrigor, that saddle would. She once again pointed her horse at the castle and spurred him forward. She was Aidan’s only chance. She could not bear if he died alone, but in truth, she could not bear if he died at all.

The sun slowly crawled higher in the sky, reaching its zenith as she came into view of the sentries in the towers and heard their cries. She gave her horse his head, knowing he would gallop straight for home, and waved frantically.

“Peace!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, praying an archer would not send a bolt through her heart. “I seek the MacGrigor!”

She repeated the same words over and over until her voice cracked and refused to obey her.

Then she saw the giant shadow appear out of nowhere. He stood atop the crenellations of the barbican, heavily cloaked, the cowl pulled low. She nearly stopped her horse in terror.

The Demon Laird!

The memory of Aidan’s pallid face replaced the terrifying vision before her. The only thing she feared more was losing Aidan. She spurred her horse over the drawbridge, his hooves echoing like ominous thunder, and into the bailey. She suddenly had to haul back on the reins or her mount would have plowed into a slow-moving wagon.

The animal squealed and sat back on his haunches, sliding.

“I seek the MacGrigor!” she cried.

“I am the MacGrigor,” a deep voice beside her rumbled.

She looked up at the barbican then back at the giant man standing beside her mount. How—

Never mind! She leapt from her horse as the animal squealed again and went down, his legs thrashing.

With amazing speed, the MacGrigor grabbed her and pulled her away from the horse.

Oh God, the animal was dying before her eyes. He had given his life to get her to the castle.

Nay! She had to get ahold of herself. She looked up at the man who had pulled her to safety. He looked so much like his brother she nearly burst into tears. He was a shade taller. Aidan was a bit leaner, more compact, but they were both powerfully built. His brother’s eyes were lighter, steel-gray in color, and his hair appeared a bit darker, but their features were incredibly similar.

“Help,” she gasped, shaking so hard she could barely stand. “Help him!”

“Lassie, forgive me,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Help who? Who are ye?”

“Kenna MacLean. Aidan calls me Sparrow. He’s hurt! Please! Ye must help him!”

His eyes widened and he looked at the horse she had led into the bailey, his gaze stopping on the blood-soaked saddle. The color drained from his face.

“Connell!” he roared, startling her. “Gather the men, I need horses saddled.”

Kenna looked up, blinking, and her gaze landed on Connell as he sprinted down the stairs of the keep.

“Connell!” she cried, relief washing through her. “Ye made it!”

“Aye, lassie,” he said giving her a genuine smile, but that didn’t erase the dusting of fear around his eyes.

“Where’s—”

“Milady!” Mairi cried, descending the stairs only a pace behind Connell, holding Adam in her arms. “Praise the saints!”

“Kenna,” the MacGrigor said. “How many men?”

She turned back to him, trying to gather her wits. “Ten knights-errant,” she gasped, vowing she would not collapse in front of him. “They will kill him!”

“Connell, twenty men!” the MacGrigor barked. “Now!”

“Ronan!” a woman’s voice cried. “What’s wrong?”

Kenna looked to the keep. Behind Mairi, a tall woman with rich auburn hair, also carrying a bairn, descended the stairs. Aidan’s sister-by-law?

“The healer,” Kenna said, gripping the MacGrigor’s arm. “He needs the healer!”

The woman heard her words and her face lost color as well. “What happened?”

“Aidan,” the MacGrigor growled. “The lassie said he is in trouble.”

The woman handed the bairn to the maid following her. “Alba,” she said, “fetch my pack. Ronan, have my horse saddled.”

“Lia, nay,” he snapped. “The lassie also said there were knights-errant pursuing them. I willna have ye in danger.”

Kenna would have smiled if the situation weren’t so dire. Aye, the MacGrigor sounded just like Aidan. They were indeed cut from the same cloth.

“Your brother needs help, and judging from that saddle, he needs it now.”

“Damnation,” the MacGrigor snarled but ordered another horse saddled as well.

“Dinna forget me,” Kenna said.

“Now hold on here—”

“Without me, ye willna find him in time.”

The MacGrigor looked to the heavens as if seeking patience, but he ordered a horse saddled for her. “Lachlan?” he barked.

“Aye?” the young man said, wearing a sword belt and carrying a giant claymore, which he handed to the MacGrigor. “Have one of the lads hitch a wagon and follow. We canna wait for it, but we will need it tae get my brother home. Ye will ride with us.”

“Aye, MacGrigor,” the young man said and sprinted away.

Within moments, horses were saddled, men mounted up.

The maid carrying the healer’s bairn brought a pack to her. Aidan’s sister-by-law shouldered it and stepped to her horse. Her husband helped her into the saddle and arranged her skirts. “’Tis a good thing ye’ve been practicing,” he said.

She smiled at him and picked up the reins.

A stable boy brought Kenna a fresh horse. She grabbed the reins and squeaked in surprise as hands closed about her waist and the MacGrigor lifted her into the saddle as easily as if she were a child.

“My brother was right,” he said and gave her a wink. “Ye are a wee lassie.” He stepped to his own horse and mounted. “After ye, little sparrow.”

Kenna set her spurs to her mount and grabbed the saddlebow as the animal charged through the gates with the MacGrigor and his men falling in stride behind her.

HHH

Ronan’s heart dropped to his boots when he saw his brother, his back against a tree, a huge red stain on his side. His face was dreadfully gray. Dear God, what if they were too late?

“Aidan!” Kenna screamed and flung herself from her horse before it even came to a stop. She slid to her knees beside him, tears pouring down her cheeks. She gently cupped his face in her hands. “Sweet Jesu, Aidan, open yer eyes. Please!”

To Ronan’s relief, Aidan groaned and blinked his eyes open. “Kenna?”

“Aye.”

“Nay, ye canna be—”

“Peace, brother,” Ronan said crouching beside him and gripping his shoulder.

Aidan’s gaze stopped on him. “Praise the saints,” he murmured. His eyes started to roll back in his head.

“Nay!” Ronan barked, pulling him back. “Stay with us Aidan.”

“Aidan,” Lia called, kneeling beside him. “Oh Blessed Mary, Aidan, look at me.”

He blinked rapidly, struggling to focus. “Lia?”

“Aye. I need you to stay with me. Focus on me.”

Surprisingly, he shook his head. “Ye shouldna have come. Ronan, the knights—”

Ronan felt the vibration in the ground, and in the distance, he heard the rumble of heavy horse. “Connell, Lachlan,” he called and rose. “Stay here in case any slip past.”

“Aye, MacGrigor,” Connell said and dismounted, drawing his weapon. Lachlan did the same.

“The rest of ye, with me. We will await them on the other side of the crest and give them a greeting they’ll no’ soon forget.” He drew his claymore and strode away, praying they weren’t too late and Lia could save his brother.

They stayed low, waiting just on the other side of the rise while the rumble of heavy horse grew louder and the vibration he felt in the earth grew stronger. Heartbeats passed, but still Ronan waited. Just as he judged the knights were beginning their ascent of the rise, Ronan stood and stepped to the crest, the cowl pulled low over his head.

“That’s my brother ye be chasing!” he snarled.

“The Demon Laird!” one knight cried, struggling to stop his mount.

Ronan lifted his claymore. “MacGrigor!”

His men exploded over the rise, using their advantage of the high ground, and collided with the knights with a resounding roar.

HHH

Connell listened intently to the battle he could only catch glimpses of through the trees. He fisted his sword and caught the distinct sound of hooves.

“Lachlan,” he growled in warning and stepped away from Aidan. Lachlan moved opposite him. “Two mounts,” Connell said.

“Aye,” Lachlan replied and readied himself.

“Lassies,” Connell said, glancing over his shoulder. “I’d suggest ye get yerselves into the trees.”

“I’m not moving,” Lia snapped, her hand pressing against the ragged wound in Aidan’s side. “I can’t.”

“Verra well then,” Connell said and set his feet.

A knight exploded through the trees. Connell lifted his sword, abruptly wishing he carried a claymore like the MacGrigor. He stepped to the side, lunged, then ducked. The English knight’s axe whistled harmlessly passed Connell’s head. The sword in his hand bucked as it encountered armor then shoved through the man’s ribs. Connell gritted his teeth and wrenched the weapon free before he lost his grip on it. The man toppled from his mount, dead, and the horse continued its gallop, disappearing into the trees.

Lachlan moved similarly, but his sword struck chain mail, and the lad had not yet developed the strength to break the heavy links. He at least had the sense to drop to the ground as the horseman tried to bring his mace down. With a roar, Connell charged. Before the knight could orient on him and defend, Connell pulled him from his mount. His fist, still gripping the hilt of his sword, plowed into the knight’s nose, knocking him flat on his back.

Lachlan regained his feet and slew the knight.

“Well done, laddie,” Connell said.

“Thank ye.”

Connell scowled as he looked down at the man. “I remember him,” he muttered. “He be Laird Stewart’s man-at-arms. Aidan left him face down in the dirt of the barn.” He rolled the body over with his foot and spied the man’s belt pouch. Cutting it free, he shoved it into his own. He searched the body for more valuables but found nothing.

Connell glanced over his shoulder. He saw both lassies had thrown themselves over Aidan in an effort to protect their patient. Connell felt his lips tug upward as Lia straightened and continued her work without missing a beat. Some things never changed. It would be a cold day in hell before Lia ever allowed anything to come between her and healing. Connell only prayed that his friend would survive.

HHH

“Press here, Kenna,” Lia said sternly and placed her hand directly on Aidan’s wound. Kenna’s eyes widened at the amount of pressure. Aidan groaned softly.

“I’m hurting him.”

“A little pain is better than him bleeding to death.”

Kenna blinked at her, still fighting not to cry when all she wanted to do was sob like a child.

Lia looked at her and gave her an encouraging smile. “I know,” she said softly. Her fingers worked rapidly to assemble an odd-looking bandage.

“This will keep him from bleeding out until I can get him back to the castle and stitch the wound closed.” She paused and pulled another flask from her pack.

“I already used whiskey on the wound,” Kenna said.

“Good,” she poured even more whiskey on it.

Aidan’s muscles clenched and he groaned again, but his reaction to the pain was much less than before.

“Aidan,” she whispered. “Ye canna leave me.”

He managed to open his eyes, but Kenna did not know if he truly focused on her. “Cold,” he murmured.

She looked to Lia.

“I know, Aidan,” she said, moving to place the bandage. “But that’s why I need you to stay with us.”

“Aye, lassie.”

“Keep talking to him, Kenna.”

She did so, even though she had no idea what words she actually spoke.

Lia looked over her shoulder. “The wagon is approaching. Connell, how goes the battle?”

“Methinks yer husband has things well in hand.”

“Good. When the wagon gets here, I will need you and Lachlan to carefully put Aidan into it. We need to get him back to the castle as quickly as possible.”